


Louder Than Words

by pterosounds



Series: Deaf!Carmilla AU [1]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, deaf carmilla au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterosounds/pseuds/pterosounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura sees a cute girl in the library and makes a fool of herself, learning a second language and how to be a good person in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Louder Than Words

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: While I am not personally deaf or hoh, I consulted friends who are, as well as hearing friends who know ASL. It is understood that there is no way to directly, grammatically translate spoken english into asl, and should be assumed that the conversational signing (signified by '...' around the dialogue instead of "...") is grammatically correct when being signed.
> 
> Content warning for mild ableism against the deaf/hoh

Hidden in a corner of the library with a good fic open on your laptop is one of your favorite places to be. Other people rarely come back into this section of the stacks, and the chairs are more comfortable and better smelling than those in the rest of the library. Sometimes people sit in another area within view of yours, but you never pay them any attention because they’re usually quiet.

Coming to the library after your classes on Tuesday and Thursday became habit of yours freshman year, but your schedule change due to joining the _Voice of Silas_ writing staff sophomore year pushed your personal quiet time to Monday and Wednesday.

Wednesdays are when you start to notice a girl in that other furnished area. It’s hard for you _not_ to notice her, honestly. She’s gorgeous, with jet black hair and a jawline that could probably cut diamonds.

She is always there when you arrive and is still there when you leave. You find yourself staring sometimes, because how could you not.

Five weeks into your new schedule, and you’ve seen a book on Kierkegaard, _The Neverending Story, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ , and, interestingly enough, _Das Kapital_. Her reading list only draws you to her more.

You bring her up to Laf and Perry when you’re out for lunch one Tuesday. (Some people would probably think it was weird you were friends with your first year floor don, but you don’t really care.)

“Dude, ask her out” are LaFontaine’s first words of advice, which Perry sighs at. “Or, just try to start a conversation with her.”

You run a hand back through your hair and shake your head. “She’s a complete stranger. How do I even justify going up to her? What would I say?”

Laf and Perry hum and look at one another before turning back to you.

“Hi, I’m Laura.” Laf grins and holds out their hand.

“I know how to introduce myself, Lafontaine,” you grumble.

“Ask her about whatever she’s reading!” Perry perks up. That’s not a bad idea. Hopefully it’s on something you find interesting. Or at least even know about. You probably couldn’t handle a philosophy discussion.

“It’s worth a shot.” Laf shrugs. “Come on, L. You’re not going to get anywhere just staring at her.”

The next day, you walk into the library with your heart thundering in your chest. Why do hot girls always make you so nervous? Well, you know why. But _why_?

You sit down in your usual spot, look over at her section, and there she is with her nose tucked into a well-worn copy of _Robinson Crusoe_. You’ve never read the book, though you always meant to. It had the potential for a good discussion.

You take a deep breath and walk over, sitting in one of the chairs in her area.

“Hi, I’m Laura,” you say quietly, your eyes on her. She continues reading, not making any indication that she’s listening to you. “I uh… I see you have _Robinson Crusoe_ , there. I’ve always meant to read that but I never got around to it. Is it worth the read?” She turns her page, but still makes no move to reply. “Right, well…” You run a hand back through your hair, your heart in your throat. This is going terribly. You need an out.

“Sorry for bothering you, I don’t know what came over me.” You laugh awkwardly and stand up, the motion finally catching her attention. She looks up at you, an eyebrow raised. However, knowing her eyes are on you sends you into ramble mode. “Yeah, sorry. I just think you’re—You know what it doesn’t even matter, you obviously aren’t in the mood to talk I’ll just—” You stop as she gets up, giving you a weird look before walking off. “I’ll just leave,” you mutter as you watch her disappear into the stacks.

\---

“Yeah! Just sauntered off!” you sigh loudly and plop down on your bed.

Betty clicks her tongue. “Sounds pretty bitchy.”

“Well, I was being kind of annoying. I went into a classic Hollis Rant.” You rub your face with your hands. “But I just don’t get why she was so rude!”

“Maybe she’s straight.”

You narrow your eyes and look over at your roommate. When she catches your gaze she shrugs. “Just throwing it out there. Some people are.” She gestures to herself and you roll your eyes.

“Even if she is, it’s not like I was flirting. I was literally just trying to talk to her about her book…”

Betty isn’t going to offer any better advice, so you pull out your laptop and try to find inspiration for something to write a story on. Inevitably, you end up on Tumblr, though, and procrastinate on there until you can’t keep your eyes open any more.

The next week goes by slowly, your professors starting to warn you about impending mid-terms. The Editor in Chief of _The Voice,_ a greasy-looking senior named Samuel, gives you a survey assignment due in two weeks, and you have to hold back a sigh. He knows you hate these, but he always throws the “I thought you wanted to be an investigative journalist” line in your face. The topic of this issue’s survey was “how do you cope with mid-terms stress?” and you can’t help but feel like this is anything but investigation. Regardless, you spend your Tuesday afternoon going around to random students trying to get their answers. Most of them turn away as soon as the words “I’m with _The Voice_ ” come out of your mouth. Luckily, by the end of the day you have six good replies and quick pictures to go with them, which you promptly send off to Samuel.

You completely forget that Wednesday means you’re going to see that girl again until you arrive in the library. You had planned on working on a term paper for your Comparative Literature class ( _Brave New World_ and _1984_ for this essay) but you need to settle whatever beef this chick has with you first.

You suck in a breath through your nose and clench and unclench your hands before striding over to her, determined to give her a piece of your mind.

She’s reading _The Jungle Book_ with a small smile on her lips, and you almost feel bad ruining her little moment. Almost.

“Hey,” you say, crossing your arms and looking down at her. She glances up, her smile disappearing and turning into a tight-lipped frown. “I don’t know what I said last week, but just walking away from me was uncalled for. Especially without even saying a word.”

She motions to one of her ears and shakes her head before going back to her reading, and something akin to rage bubbles inside of you. You reach for the book, and she quickly yanks it away, glaring at you.

“I’m trying to talk to you!”

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose and grabs her bag. She rummages through it and pulls out a pencil and a piece of paper, angrily scrawling something on it before shoving it your direction. With a roll of your eyes, you look at it and you are overcome with many things, but mostly dread and embarrassment.

_‘I’m deaf.’_

You feel your cheeks heat up and a sucking sensation in your chest. “Oh. That… that explains—” You snap your mouth shut as she regards you with crossed arms and a disapproving leer.

You scratch your head as you try to remember the classes you took in high school. Hesitantly, you ball your right hand into a fist and rub it in a circle on your chest.

That’s sorry, right? You’re pretty sure.

You must be right, because both of her eyes widen and she moves her hands in response much too quickly. Panicked, you fumble out the signs for “I don’t know” “school” and “little” before shrugging.

Your high school had a “foreign language” requirement in order to graduate, and the only languages offered were Spanish, French, and American Sign Language. Because you love a challenge and hated the idea of taking Spanish or French (and apparently hated yourself), you registered for ASL your Junior and Senior year. You retained a little of it, but definitely not enough to communicate with an actual deaf person.

She narrows her eyes, regarding you silently for a while before her shoulders start to shake with a quiet laugh, the corners of her mouth twitching up like when she had been reading. Making eye contact with you, she spelled out her name. C-A-... R? You’re pretty sure it’s R. M-I-L-L-A.

Smiling back at her, you start fingerspelling your own name to the best of your ability, but you falter at U. You take a C and turn it sideways, and she rolls her eyes before holding up two fingers together. You restart and spell your name out, grinning at your success. She signs something else, but you only recognize ‘pretty’ out of the entire sentence, so you aren’t sure if she means you or your name.

‘You’re pretty, too,’ you sign back slowly, still not entirely sure you’re getting the signs right.

She looks down at her book for a second before marking her page and putting it in her backpack. She grabs the piece of paper and scribbles out a phone number before handing it back to you, shrugging, and looking anywhere but at you. You pretend not to notice her glancing at you out of the corner of her eye as you pull out your phone. A snort escapes her and you look up.

‘What?’

‘Old’

You glare at her. Just because you don’t have the money to upgrade past an iPhone 3 does not warrant judgement. You don’t know how to sign what you want to say to her, so you take the pencil and write it on the paper.

_‘Guess you won’t get my number, then.’_

She slides it over to herself and sighs, scrutinizing you.

‘Not sorry,’ she signs as she smirks.

You stare at one another in silence, a playful tension in the air. With a roll of your eyes, you relent and text her a winky face. She signs her thanks before pulling her phone out of her pocket, raising an eyebrow at you before looking back down at her phone.

_Carmilla [4:32] Hey, cutie._

_Laura [4:32] i’m right across from you. why are you texting me?_

_Carmilla [4:32] I don’t want anything I say to be lost in translation. We obviously must start your ASL lessons as soon as possible._

You laugh and look up at her. If you didn’t know any better, you would say she was flirting with you. But that would be ridiculous, because you’re you, and she’s gorgeous, and just five minutes ago you were being horribly rude to her. Still, you’ve always been more suave over text than with verbal speech, so you play along.

_Laura [4:33] well then you obvi have to come to my room after i’m done with my work here._

_Carmilla [4:33] I think I’d like that very much._

You stand up and motion over to where you normally sit. She shrugs in response and resumes her reading.

Back in your area, you pull out your laptop and get to plotting out your points, but it’s so hard to do for two books that you don’t care about written by two boring dead white dudes who might as well be the same person. They both wrote about a government controlled future, one more utopian and the other more dystopian. But they’re both bad. And that’s all you retained from them.

Your gaze shoots over to Carmilla, and something in the back of your mind tells you she would be millions - no, _billions_ of times better at writing this than you. Or was that just you wanting to talk to her more? You’ve written analytical essays before and you never struggled.

Yet, you can’t deny a… second opinion… wouldn’t hurt.

You shoot her a text.

_Laura [4:57] opinion on aldus huxley?_

_Carmilla [4:57] Aldous._

_Laura [4:58] ???_

_Carmilla [4:58] His name is spelled with an ‘O’, sweetie._

You roll your eyes and shoot her a glare, which she meets with one of her smirks.

_Carmilla [4:59] That bunched up face you make when you’re angry is hilarious, buttercup._

_Laura [5:00] whatever what do you think of him?_

_Carmilla [5:00] He was full of himself and on some next level drugs, but Brave New World had an impact on literature, and I wouldn’t say it was an entirely unenjoyable read._

_Laura [5:00] what about 1984?_

A snort sounds from Carmilla’s corner and you look up. She’s walking over to you, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She plops down unceremoniously in one of the chairs beside you and looks at your computer screen, scoffing again. She takes it out of your lap, either not noticing or pretending she didn’t see your lips move in a ‘hey’ of protest. She types quickly, faster than you can even really comprehend, and then turns the screen to you.

_‘Is this for Garrison’s Comp Lit class?’_

You nod as you slump back in your seat, your hands on your face. “Help me” you say into your palms before you remember. You move your hands and lazily finger spell ‘help’ because you can’t remember the real sign for it.

You watch her for a response, and she spells help back to you before placing a thumbs up on a flat palm and pulling it towards herself.

You repeat the action and she nods before turning the laptop back to herself and typing again. When she hands your computer back to you ten silent minutes later, it has a comprehensive outline that just needs to be fleshed out with your own opinions and observations. As you’re reading over it, your phone buzzes.

_Carmilla [5:15] What’s your major?_

_Laura [5:15] journalism lol_

Next to you, Carmilla sighs.

_Carmilla [5:16] Let me guess, you’re on the Voice of Silas writing staff?_

Something about her change in demeanor and tone in her text puts you off. Humor always has been your best defense mechanism.

_Laura [5:17] laura hollis star junior reporter coming in from the library_

Carmilla stands up and flips you off before she starts walking away. You felt like you had whiplash. What was wrong with being part of the paper? You call after her, and you curse at yourself as you remember she can’t hear. In a hurried panic, you shove all of your stuff back in your bag and jog after her, but she’s gone. You pull out your phone and shoot her a text.

_Laura [5:22] what’s wrong?? what did i say??_

_Carmilla [5:25] You fucking college reporters are always praying on the weak and different for a juicy story, and it’s disgusting. I’m not going to be the subject piece of the next “groundbreaking” article in that rag about “diversity at Silas”._

Oh god, of course she thought this was you trying to get the scoop on her, and not you just being very gay and interested in her as a girl. You frown and run a hand back through your hair.

_Laura [5:27] obviously i didn’t know you were deaf before you told me, dingus._

Her reply doesn’t come until after dinner, when you’re settled down in your bed with Netflix on.

_Carmilla [8:01] Right. Of course. You must understand my anger, though. Surely you know the types of writers I thought you were earlier._

_Laura [8:02] i do. one of them is my editor in chief lol_

_Carmilla [8:02] Christ. Other reporters have approached me before. I’ve turned all of them down, obviously._

_Laura [8:03] oh naturally :)_

You dread the smiley face as soon as you send it, but there’s no going back.

_Carmilla [8:04] Oh, are we on an emoticon basis now?_

You bite back a smile and ignore the shit-eating grin that Betty gives you.

“Who ya textin’ Hollis?” she taunts from her bed.

“Just… a girl.” You bite the corner of your lip and look down at the message.

_Laura [8:06] only if you want us to be_

_Carmilla [8:07] How does a lesson tomorrow after dinner sound? The payment can be my food._

_Laura [8:07] i have to pay you now?_

_Carmilla [8:08] You may or not be paying for a little extra, too, cupcake._

“Jesus, Laura! Get a room, you’re making me jealous!”

You laugh and throw a pillow at Betty. “Shut up.”

She dodges the pillow and bounds over to your bed, jumping onto it. “This the girl from the library?”

“Maybe…” you drawl, not looking her in the eyes.

“Laura Hollis, you fox. Tell me about her!”

“Well, she reads a lot, and uh… she’s drop dead gorgeous-”

“I know all that! Tell me what you’re acting all coy about.”

“She just asked me out to dinner tomorrow and we’re gonna uh…” you hesitate, “Study together afterwards.”

Betty bounces her eyebrows and nudges you. “Ehh, ‘studying’ is always a fun time, isn’t it.”

You glare at her and shove her off of her bed. “Get out of here with that, Spielsdork. I just met her today.”

“That’s never stopped Laura Hollis, certified lady killer, from scoring some pussy in a dingy bar on a Tuesday.”

“You have no tact, dear god,” you groan as you fall back on your pillows. A smile is on your lips, though. You love Betty, even with her harsh humor and personality. Occasionally, iffy things come out of her mouth and you catch yourself from going into full rant. People just say terrible things sometimes, and you are working on trying to accept that.

“Yeah, but now that I think about it, you only got with that girl because I’m the best wingman on this side of the equator. So obviously something I do is working.”

You give her that and turn back to your phone.

_Laura [8:12] sounds like a date ;)_

And out of fear or excitement or a mixture of both, you don’t look back at your phone for the remainder of the night.

\---

Out of fear of being late, you arrive ten minutes early. You anxiously fiddle with the hem of your dress as you wait outside the small burger place off campus. Carmilla had suggested it, saying that it was the only restaurant in the town of Silas that she was convinced wouldn’t give her food poisoning. When you told her that you had never been, she insisted that you needed to try it.

You see Carmilla make her way down the block, and your heart skips a little bit. You don’t know if it’s from nerves or excitement, though it’s probably a mix of both.

Once Carmilla’s reasonably close to you, you give her a small wave, which she returns. She pulls earbuds out of her ears, which confuses you a bit, but you aren’t about to ask any sensitive questions that might botch your date with arguably the hottest girl on campus.

Instead, you focus on the fact that she’s wearing a leather jacket and black skinny jeans despite it being a relatively warm day.

‘Aren’t you hot?’ you slowly sign.

‘You tell me.’ She gives you a wink and opens the door to the burger joint, holding it open for you.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across your face as you walk in. Carmilla leads you up to the counter, and the middle aged woman behind it smiles at the two of you.

“The usual, dear?” She asks. Carmilla nods, and motions for you to order. Again, you find yourself confused. You thought Carmilla was deaf. Well, you had assumed she was completely deaf. Maybe she was just partially? Your curiosity is going to get the best of you eventually. You need to think of a polite way to ask about it. Maybe later during your ASL lessons. If those were still happening and not just a cover for Carmilla to bring you to her room. Which you wouldn’t complain about.

It isn’t until the cashier clears her throat that you realize you had been standing there completely silent like an idiot while your brain was racing at a million miles an hour.

“Right! Sorry,” You look up at the menu. “Just a cheeseburger, extra pickles, only mustard.”

“That’ll be $10.54.” The older woman says.

You pay and take your seat and find yourself under Carmilla’s intense gaze.

‘How was your day?’

‘Good. You?’

‘Good.’

You sigh slightly, wishing you knew how to actually make conversation in ASL. You sign ‘sorry’ and hope she gets what you’re trying to say.

She clicks her tongue and pulls a napkin out of the dispenser before patting her pockets. Before she can even ask, you open your purse for a pen. You emerge victorious, and she thanks you as she quickly scribbles something on the napkin.

_‘You’re too tense about all of this. Relax, cutie. It’s just a date.’_

You smile sheepishly, more than a little embarrassed that she caught on to your weird behavior. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she’s entirely too good for you. You need to act cool.

 _‘I just don’t know how to sign all the super smart and flirty things I have in my mind.’_ You write back, hoping she doesn’t see through your fib. Because if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re rarely smart _or_ flirty with your words, without the added trouble of communicating in a different language.

However, when the two of you make eye contact after she reads your message, you know she’s calling your bullshit.

 _‘You know I can read lips, right?’_ You don’t look back up at her. You don’t think you can. Your eyes are as big as saucers and you’re sure the heat and color in your cheeks is unnatural. So you run your hand back through your hair and laugh, because really what else can you do besides fall back on old coping habits?

The exchange with the server made sense now.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you ask her out loud.

She pulls out a new napkin, and you make a mental note of buying her a small notebook or something to make things easier for both of you.

_‘Firstly, you sound like you’re having a one sided conversation. But most importantly, part of me likes seeing you flounder. Is that bad?’_

You narrow your eyes at her, and she just gives you a shit-eating smirk.

The rest of your dinner goes pretty smoothly, with you talking in a whisper while signing what you know, and her replying via napkins. You can’t help but notice how her eyes flit to your lips when you talk. While you know that she’s doing it in order to understand you, you also picked up on the fact that she still does it when you _aren’t_ speaking.

You try not to let that thought consume your mind as you walk back towards her dorm in a comfortable silence.

Carmilla had scored a single room, probably through the disability office. You settle yourself on the desk chair as Carmilla tosses her jacket and boots into a pile on the floor and flops down on her bed. She props herself up on her elbows and looks at you, and you mentally curse yourself for blushing under her gaze.

“So, lessons?” you say.

She simply shrugs.

“Maybe… not lessons?”

Her eyebrows bounce, and despite how you would normally react, the simple response doesn’t embarrass you further. It makes you laugh.

“Come on, Carmilla. I want to be able to talk to you.”

She signs, but you aren’t prepared, so you only pick up ‘learn first’.

“Maybe refresh me on basic conversation?”

However, the lesson doesn’t last long before she tells you that she’s bored. You’ve only been out for two hours, and you know that if you return now, Betty won’t let you hear the end of it. You also personally don’t want to leave yet, but you choose Betty as your motivator.

 _‘Movie?’_ you suggest before realizing that might not be the best. But, before your apologetic ramble can even establish itself, Carmilla presses a quick peck to your cheek and nods.

She brings out her laptop and opens a folder labeled ‘Subbed Movies.’

Right. Subtitles exist.

She scoots over on her bed and pats the space next to her as you swallow your rising nerves and leave the desk chair. Your side presses against hers, and you can’t help but notice that you kinda just fit there. She settles the laptop on your legs.

The two of you scroll through the list before you point to Fellowship of The Ring. She raises an eyebrow at you.

“What?” Initially, you think her judgement is because you suggested Lord of the Rings, but then you realise _she’s_ the one who has the _extended_ version downloaded on her computer.

She points to the time on her laptop and then to the length of the movie.

“It’s only 8:30, we could finish it tonight.”

_‘Four hours.’_

_‘Midnight!’_

She rolls her eyes but relents.

It takes you all but five minutes to realize that there isn’t any audio. Of course not. Why would there be? So you read the subtitles, though there are some parts where you don’t need to. Not that you are ready to admit that to her just yet.

At some point, you’re not sure when, Carmilla’s arm moves from between your bodies to around your shoulders, and you find yourself leaning further into her.

Three hours in, you feel yourself starting to get drowsy.

“Why do you wear earbuds?” You mumble. It doesn’t occur to you that she can’t see your lips move, so your tired brain accepts she simply doesn’t want to answer. Eventually you tell Carmilla that you can’t stay up much longer, still not making the connection that she has no idea what you’re saying or that you’re even talking. Still, she lets you fall asleep on her shoulder.

\---

A week after your first date, you’re on your second. You can’t help but feel giddy about that, because girls rarely stick around long enough for you to get to this point. Most are turned away by awkward, rambly nerds.

Not Carmilla, though.

The communication you have with her limits your normal word vomit, and more or less forces you to think about things before you say them.

Beyond that, Carmilla seems to genuinely enjoy your company. ‘Seems’ being the operative word. You’ll see where you stand after another night with her.

Your second date brings you to a courtyard on campus a little past 9pm.

The text she had sent you during your composition class had been vague.

_Carmilla [1:37] A surprise awaits you at the North Quad courtyard. 9:15 PM._

You keep rereading the text. She hadn’t responded to your ‘okay? see you there!’

At 9:15 sharp, you see her making her way across the grass, something tucked under her arm.

By force of habit, you say hi. Then you realise that it’s only going to darker as the night goes on, and she’s not going to be able to read your lips.

Or read your signs.

She slips her hand in yours and leads you away from the small street lamps at the other end of the quad, and you try not to hyperfocus on the sensation of your hand in hers. Her phone lights up her face, then you feel a buzzing in your jean pocket shortly after.

You pull your own phone out and read the text from her.

_Carmilla [9:16] We’re going to play a little game while we stargaze. How do you feel about that?_

_Laura [9:16] sure :) what is it?_

She stops and spreads out what is apparently a blanket. She lays down, and you take the unspoken invitation to join her.

_Carmilla [9:17] I’m going to trace letters onto the back of your hand and you have to text me what you think I’m spelling._

_Laura [9:17] And will I be doing it back to you?_

_Carmilla [9:17] Well of course. How else would we be keeping score?_

You laugh quietly and take a chance by scooting closer to her despite having more room on the blanket than you did on her single bed. She sighs contently, and you take that as approval.

She pats around for your hand before turning it over for you and starting without telling you. It tickles slightly, but you don’t jerk away like you normally do when you’re tickled.

H-E-L-L-O

You text your answer with one hand, not wanting to pull your other away from her.

It’s your turn, and you’re drawing a blank for what to write.

You look up at the sky above you, your eyes adjusting and picking up the stars.

M-O-O-N

She texts her answer and says she’s gonna step up the difficulty.

T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U

Y-O-U-R-E-W-E-L-C-O-M-E

Carmilla’s next answer confuses you a bit.

I-S-T-H-I-S- and then something you can’t make out.

You text her the first two words, and ask her to repeat the last.

A-L-R-I-G-H-T

It occurs to you then, that this wasn’t really a game as much as Carmilla simply wanting to talk to you.

_Laura [9:30] it’s wonderful, but we don’t have to talk, yknow. i’m okay with quiet._

She doesn’t respond to you, but she intertwines your fingers together and you realise that maybe that was all she needed to know.

You lay there with her for a while longer, her thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

When 10 o’clock rolls around, you help her fold the blanket back up and she walks you to your dorm.

Oncer her face is finally lit up again by the street lights, you smile at her as the two of you stand semi-awkwardly by the door of your building.

“I had a good night, Carmilla,” you say to her, and then sign _‘thank you’_.

She smiles and shakes her head, looking down at the ground. Her shoulders rise and fall with a small sigh before she looks back up at you.

Your eyes lock, and you swear that time stands still, and as if to make up for the temporal lapse, everything after happens much too quickly.

Carmilla takes a hold of your waist and pulls you close to her, and before you can even react, her lips are pressed against yours.

Time returns to normal as you lean into the kiss, humming softly as you slowly snake your arms behind her neck.

The kiss somehow lasts a lifetime yet also not nearly long enough. When Carmilla pulls away from you, you take a small but sharp breath and exhale with a laugh.

She presses another quick kiss to your nose before stepping away and signing, _‘Goodnight, Laura’_

\---

Hanging out in the library on Mondays and Wednesdays becomes a joint thing, sometimes ending up with Carmilla pushing you against the stacks and kissing you until you’re weak in the knees. You make the mistake of telling Betty that you got caught once, and she won’t let you live it down.

When Carmilla isn’t actively trying to get you kicked out of the library forever, you continue with your ASL lessons in her dorm room. You are becoming quite proficient if you say so yourself. Nine times out of ten, though, you end up making out on her bed. Yet slowly but surely, you find yourself becoming better at understanding sign language.

Two months into your relationship, Carmilla shows up to a lunch date in a particularly foul mood.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask her.

She sits down with a huff. ‘I despise when people speak slow to me.’

You frown and tilt your head to the side. ‘What do you mean?’

‘People think they need to speak like idiots because I’m deaf.’

You whisper your ‘oh’ of realization and sigh. ‘I’m sorry people are-’ you pause and finger spell “garbage” which causes her to chuckle under her breath and show you the sign. You repeat the sign and give her a serious nod.

‘You’re ridiculous sometimes,’ she signs as she rolls her eyes.

‘You like it.’

‘True.’

You ask Carmilla about other things on campus that make her mad, and she lists off her grievances. At the top of her list was having to pay for note-takers (which she got for free in high school), and no closed captions on the campus televisions.

You chat back and forth with Carmilla about stupid things people have done once they found out Carmilla couldn’t hear until the waitress comes and takes your orders. You order for Carmilla, which had become a habit after you insisted you go out to eat at other restaurants. This lead to you discovering that Carmilla’s preference for her burger joint went beyond her qualms about food quality, and was actually rooted in the fact that it seemed they were one of the only places on campus that either knew what Carmilla wanted or were willing to take a written order.

When Carmilla had revealed this to you, you immediately volunteered to read her signs and order in her stead. In turn, she immediately shot down the offer. She insisted she didn’t need assistance for such a menial task, and that she’d get by without having to deal with “ableist nonsense.” Eventually you wore her down, either because she got tired of the same three meals, or came to terms with the fact that your offer wasn’t based in any need to “take care” of her.

‘You’re the first person I’ve allowed to order for me since I was a child.’ She signs.

That doesn’t honestly surprise you, but her admission touches you. ‘It’s no big deal to me.’

‘It should be a big deal. It’s hard for me to trust people.’

You nod in understanding and take her hand across the table and squeeze it gently. She gives you a small smile.

You’re about to respond when a familiar voice sounds from behind you.

“Hey, Laura!” Laf calls out. “Oh, sorry dude. I didn’t see you were on a date. This must be the lucky lady I’ve been hearing all about.” LaFontaine walks up to your table and you give them a small smile. They hold out their hand towards Carmilla and your heart drops. “I’m LaFontaine, but you can just call me Laf. What’s your name?”

Carmilla raises an eyebrow and takes their hand, shaking it once before letting go and looking over at you with an unplacable expression. Something in your gut doesn’t feel right about the exchange, but you can’t place what.

“Uh, this is Carmilla. She doesn’t talk much.” You blurt out dumbly before the awkward silence can stretch on for much longer. You wince as you see Carmilla narrow her eyes.

Oblivious as ever, Laf doesn’t seem to catch on to the change in atmosphere. “Oh that’s alright, I’m sure she’ll warm right up to me. She’s obviously put up with you this long, Hollis.” LaFontaine gives you a nudge, and you laugh along. “Well, I’ll leave you weirdos alone. See you later, Laura.”

Carmilla clicks her tongue after Laf leaves, and you smile nervously at her.

‘They’ve heard all about me, have they?’ She signs.

‘Yes. I talk about you. Is that okay?’You ask back, your hands shaking a little.

‘Does LaF know I can’t hear?’

You raise your hands to sign back, but you hesitate. The answer is no. You both know that. To keep things from being lost in translation, you whisper.

“It just hasn’t come up in conversation. Would you like to have me constantly talking about your disability to others? It’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

‘I just think that our lessons would have come up at some point.’

“Can we please drop it? I didn’t have any ill intent. If you want, I can tell them.”

Carmilla sighs and leans back, her eyes staying locked with yours for a while. Your food gets put down in front of you and you thank the waitress.

‘Maybe I’m just being oversensitive,’ Carmilla eventually says.

“And that’s okay. Really, do you want me to tell them?”

‘Only the ones that will barge in on our dates.’ She smiles at you, giving her signs a joking tone.

‘No problem,’ you sign back.

\---

 

“Betty, if I told you Carmilla had… difficulties with certain things, what would you say?” You ask your roommate one night as the two of you were writing papers.

“What kinda difficulties are we talking about? Like can’t put out, or doesn’t know how to do basic math? One of which is more acceptable over the other.” Betty laughs. “It’s the math one,” she adds, as if you didn’t get the joke.

“I mean, like…” you drum your fingers on the keyboard of your laptop, “What if I told you she was deaf.”

“Wait, is she really?” Betty asks curiosity and wariness both evident in her tone. You immediately regret saying anything.

“This is all hypothetical—”

“How do you even talk to her? Like, can she read lips? How does she keep up with how fast you talk? God that’s weird. I don’t know if I’d be able to date a deaf dude. I like being told out loud how wonderful I am. Oh my god, I bet her sex sounds are ungodly weird. Oops, that was super rude, but I’m probably not wrong. Am I wrong? Who am I kidding, you don’t know yet. Is there even a sign language word for ‘sex?’”

Betty’s reaction more or less puts you off of the idea of telling LaFontaine. Laf would probably want to do some sort of long term psychological experiment of having a hard of hearing partner and ruin everything anyways. Carmilla doesn’t know your friends like you do. It’s not that you’re ashamed of Carmilla. It’s that you don’t trust your friends not to be weird about it. Betty is Exhibit A of friends being weird about it.

\---

Betty is out of town that weekend, and you invite Carmilla over to your room for the first time. When Carmilla points out that it is in fact the first time, you just tell her that your roommate is a lot to handle, which isn’t exactly a lie. However, two weeks since the LaF and Betty incidents, and you still find yourself wondering if you’ve been subconsciously afraid to let your life with Carm and your life with your friends intersect.

Dismissing those concerns as baseless, you allow yourself a happy moment of making out with your girlfriend on your bed.

A knock on the door interrupts you.

“It’s probably my RA, one sec.”

‘If we’re quiet, no one will know we’re here’ She signs quickly (which makes you proud you were able to pick up all of it).

You roll your eyes at her and open your door. You were half right.

Perry and LaFontaine stand grinning at you. “We’re about to have a movie night in my room if you’re interested!” Perry says. “Popcorn and brownies, free of charge.”

Your stomach growls at the thought of Perry’s brownies. “I actually have someone over right now. Maybe next time?”

Perry frowns slightly and turns to LaFontaine, who gives you a smirk. “Ah, someone over, eh?” They bounce their eyebrows, and you blush, which makes them laugh. “Invite her over then. You two can bone some other time-”

“LaFon _taine_!” Perry sighs. “I’ll be back in my room, I’m not going to listen to this.”

You glance over your shoulder at Carmilla, who is lounged out on your bed, reading _The Goblet of Fire_ (which was left out on your side table.) Your movement must have caught her attention because she looks up at you.

With the usual lack of self-awareness, LaFontaine pokes their head through your door to look at Carmilla as well.

“Hi, Carmilla! You coming to movie night?”

Confusion passes over Carmilla’s features before she shakes her head and returns to reading.

“We’d really just like some more company.” Laf turns to you. “The rest of the residents hate us and it would mean the world to Perr if it was more than just us. Bring Silent Bob with you!”

“Carmilla doesn’t really like watching movies with other people-”

“What kinda weirdo have you picked up? You love watching stuff with other people!”

“Well Carmilla doesn’t! Can you please just leave us alone, Laf? I’m not really at the point where I want other people around us anyways.”

Sometime during your brief argument, Carmilla must have looked back up and read what was going on, or at least what you said.

The sound of your book clapping shut sends a jolt down your spine.

‘What’s going on?’ Carmilla signs, anger in her eyes.

“Carmilla, I-”

‘Have you told them?’

“Laura, what’s she doin—Oh my god, she’s deaf,” LaFontaine says.

Carmilla’s nostrils flare and you see her chest heave with a controlled breath. ‘You’re embarrassed of me, aren’t you?’

Your throat tightens and your heart starts to race. This isn’t how you wanted any of this to go down. “I’m not embarrassed, Carm. I—” you speak and feebly sign at the same time as Carmilla tugs her shoes on.

‘I need a moment. I’ll text you later,’ Carmilla signs before pushing past LaFontaine and out of the room.

“What was that about?” Laf asked.

“Can you please just leave? You’ve done enough,” you snap at them.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? That would have kept me from looking like an idiot when I saw you at lunch the other week.”

“You don’t think I know that, LaFontaine?”

Laf shrugs and turns to walk out the door. “Sorry I messed up another date.”

Their apology takes all the fight out of you and you collapse backward onto your bed. “It’s not your fault, Laf. It’s mine.”

\---

_Carmilla [9:26] So we need to talk._

_Laura [9:26] i agree…_

_Carmilla [9:27] I need you to be entirely truthful. Why didn’t you tell your friend? Why did they not find out until that exact moment._

_Laura [9:29] i want to say i just kept forgetting. but i think i was just afraid of how they would react._

_Carmilla [9:30] So you were, in so many words, embarrassed?_

_Laura [9:31] in some stupid subconscious way, i think yes._

It hurts you to send it, but she asked you to be honest.

_Carmilla [9:35] I think we need to take a little break from one another. I want to think about this, and I believe you need to put together a solid opinion of what you think of me, and that includes my deafness and how you think your friends will perceive that._

_Laura [9:36] i understand. does this mean you’ll give me a second chance?_

_Carmilla [9:37] I don’t know yet. Don’t push your luck. Goodnight, Laura._

You don’t hold back the tears as the weight of Carmilla’s words presses down on your chest, and you go to sleep wondering if you royally screwed up something beautiful.

\---

Four text messages to Carmilla go unanswered, and your hope for a second chance dwindles.

You are mechanically proofreading some nonsense article during a shift at _The Voice_ when the Editor in Chief comes up to you.

“Hollis, how would you feel about actually doing some writing for once?” Samuel asks, and you ignore his condescending tone.

“Who died?”

“No one yet, but Corrina’s out with Mono, and she was writing our cover story for next week. Do you have any ideas for something you can whip up in two days?”

You shake yourself away from the brief sensation of disbelief to wrack your brain for any ideas. “I can think of something. I’ll shoot you ideas by the end of today, okay?”

Samuel snorts. “I’m counting on you, Hollis.”

Back in your room, you anxiously bounce your fingers along your keyboard trying to think of anything you could write about with minimal reporting.

Betty walks in and tosses her bag on the floor. “So how’s it going with Helen Keller?”

“Oh my god, Betty. You can’t say shit like that!”

Betty feigns innocence and holds her hands up. “Woah, chill. It was just a joke. It’s not like she’s here to hear it. Oh, wait-”

“I am not in the mood for you right now,” you grunt and gather your laptop. “I’m going over to Perry’s room.”

Your RA’s room proves to be a much more cohesive environment for brainstorming, and the exchange with Betty gave you the perfect idea for a story. You send it off to Samuel, and he greenlights it. Only after the confirmation does it dawn on you that maybe this could win Carmilla back.

\---

Samuel titles your article ‘ _A Subconscious Prejudice: The Disabled Students of Silas’_ and while your main motivator was the list of complaints Carmilla had told you about, your research in the Disabilities Affairs Office turned up a lot of other problems with accessibility on campus. Beyond deaf students being charged for lecture hall note-takers and none of the public TV’s having closed captions, there were several issues with wheelchair mobility and worn (or non-existent) braille signage.

After exposing these problems, you interviewed several students from the DAO and found that while many people claimed to be advocates for students with disabilities, most of those claims were empty. Several disabled students gave accounts of former friends “getting tired of adjusting their plans” or just straight up not ever trying to accommodate. Those discoveries prompted the rest of your article, where you detailed simple ways other students could help their peers. You consulted the DAO to read over your report, and when they approved of your message, it was sent to be printed.

The day it gets published, you try to keep yourself from checking the paper’s website for comments. You know there will be negative or self-righteous ones. And there are.

But something surprises you. For each ableist jerk that claims “disabled people are given special treatment for things their problems don’t even effect” or “they’re all just faking it for easy passes” at least five other students reply to the comment calling out how ridiculous the original jerk sounds.

The next day, _The Voice of Silas_ gets an email from the Dean of Students. In the letter, the Dean outlines a plan she hopes to put into place in order to fix the facility problems you had pointed out in her article. But in the Dean’s own words “Eradicating the human aspect of this prejudice is up to you. Students won’t listen to us, but they will listen to their peers.”

You see the first closed caption TV’s up in the dining hall within the week, and you try not to tear up.

Your texts to Carmilla still go unanswered, but Samuel assigns you another writing job while Corrina recovers. You are on the cusp of coming to terms with the fact that maybe even this level of change won’t fix what you've messed up with Carmilla. You know you don’t deserve the second chance. You had been a jerk, whether you meant to be or not.

A week and a half after the article was published, you hear a gentle knock at your door while you're re-watching an episode of Doctor Who. The subtitles are on and the volume is turned low. You have found out that you enjoy parts of it better that way.

You pause the show and answer the door, but no part of you could have been prepared for who was on the other side.

‘Congrats on the front page,’ Carmilla signs.

‘Can I hug you?’ You slowly sign back.

Carmilla doesn’t even finish her nod before you all but tackle her.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper into her shoulder, only vaguely aware that she can’t hear you.

You pull back and tears sting in the corners of your eyes. So many words want to come to the surface but you only know the signs for half of them and everything is overwhelming to you. “Okay, I need to do something. I just need to ramble without interruption.”

‘Will you let me talk afterwards?’

“Of course.” You lead her inside and sit down on your bed. She joins you and you take a few steadying breaths before turning to face her head on.

“I know that I messed up, and I know I was a selfish jerk. I was too concerned with what my friends would think of me, but I kept telling myself that I was just concerned what they would think of you. And so I told them about all of the stuff we did, but glanced over the fact that you were teaching me a whole language, which is super romantic in and of itself so honestly I should have told them that part. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not ashamed of you, and I don’t think your disability makes you a liability or whatever horrible things I have learned that people say. But my two lies collided, and I floundered. I didn’t want to lose you but I knew I had royally screwed up.

When I was writing that article, part of me was doing it with the hopes that it would win you back. But the more I got into it, the more I realized I wanted you to come back on your own. I had found out too much not to publish it though.”

You pause, and Carmilla takes that opportunity to respond.

‘Part of me being here today has to do with the content of the article. The other part is because I realized I might have overreacted.’

“I don’t think you did-”

Carmilla holds a hand up to stop your interruption.

‘I am here right now because of effort from both of us. And I’m here because I’ve decided that I like you too much to not give you that second chance.’

Again, you feel a surge of emotion, and you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in for another hug. “I’m so grateful for that because I think I love you,” you whisper, and tense when you realized what you just said. When it dawns on you that Carmilla doesn’t know, you laugh and you can’t seem to stop yourself.

Carmilla gives you a bewildered look. She doesn’t need to know yet, but you’re glad that at least you’ve figured it out.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ carmunism.tumblr.com
> 
> if yall want a bonus sexytime chapter, you should slam tht mfing kudos button


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